


Hearts Are So Two Years Ago

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco (Mentioned)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Peterick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick Stump hears too much, and it sparks new feelings. Well not new, it just brings up some forgotten ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearts Are So Two Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

> My hopeless romantic attacked me half-way through writing this, so it gets kind of fluffy.

"Ahhhhh, _'Trick_." The word Patrick awoke to this morning, besides the long breathy poorly-hidden moan from his best friend, who is suppose to be asleep, one nightstand away from him. Patrick refuses to open his eyes to see what Pete is up to, so he keeps them sealed like a safe pretending this is all a dream. A fucked up one in his opinion.

 

Of course Pete has been strange around Patrick the past few weeks, after _that one night_.... So this really shouldn't surprise him as much as it does. Let's continue on _that one night:_

 

It was a regular night at another substandard motel. Joe and Andy in one room, Pete and Patrick in the other. Patrick let Pete go into the shower first, while he prepared his bed for an early night, for them 2 a.m. is an early night. Twenty minutes later, Patrick is sitting on the edge of his bed flipping through the channels when Pete steps out of the bathroom along with a puff of steam. Patrick can't help but notice Pete's towel slung low on his _exquisitely_ tan hips, his ridiculous naturally curly tousled black hair. Pete is absently trying to smooth his hair down, while Patrick just _gawked_ very unlike the usual him, the him that barely even notices Pete when they're sharing a room. Patrick couldn't help but notice all the blood rushing to his dick, Pete notices this too, shooting a glance before words.

 

"Hey, 'Trick, you all right?" Pete asks along with a concerned eyebrow raise. Patrick snaps out of his trance, and says the first words that come out without his brain or mouth's consent.

 

"I need a girlfriend."

 

"How'd you come up with that conclusion from looking at me?"

 

"I haven't had a girlfriend in a long time, and maybe I uh... need one? And I need a shower." Patrick prays Pete didn't notice that he escaped the question. He hurries into the bathroom leaving Pete in a sea of confusion, hoping Pete didn't _really_ notice between his thighs, let alone the cause of it.

 

He showers fast and as cold as he can take, thankful it's not the winter or fall, so he doesn't freeze the second he steps out. He brought his clothes in and got dressed in the bathroom too. Now ready for bed, he opens the door revealing Pete, standing over his duffel bag digging for clothes. This would be perfectly fine if Pete hadn't had tossed his towel to the side. Patrick slips back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him loudly causing Pete's alarm.

 

"Oh, God, Patrick, you didn't see anything did you?" He wishes he could say he didn't, but he did, _the whole nine yards_ you could say. His brain's opinion on it is still to be determined, while his crotch has already decided for him.

 

"I kind of seen your back, like your _back_ back--"

 

"My ass?" Pete asks helpfully.

 

"Yeah, and kind of a little more too...." Patrick shouts through the door, soiling the plans of dispelling the awkward quickly, but the chances of that were slim in the first place.

 

"Why were you looking?" He can hear Pete snicker from through the door.

 

"You're an asshole. Get dressed please, I'm tired."

 

"Yes, honey." Pete is really starting to piss him off tonight.

 

"Might I ask why you were naked in the first place, I mean you can hear when the shower turns off and everything, right?" Patrick regrets even asking, because he's not quite sure he wants to know, I mean it's _Pete_ , for God's sake.

 

"I thought you'd take a little longer getting dressed and so I, you know, thought I could air out a bit while I got my pj's. But I guess I was wrong. By the way you can come out now." He does, still hesitant, but Pete was truthful leaving no more trauma for Patrick tonight. This time he's still over his bag, dressed and putting away his journal, cologne and other items he threw out of the bag in search of his pajamas. They watch TV before falling asleep, and Patrick doesn't forget what he saw even for a minute.

 

So that was _that one night_ , now back to this morning:

 

Patrick doesn't remember why the guys thought it would be fine to put him and Pete in the same room after that time--Oh, yeah, he does. Joe and Andy thought it would be just so _fucking hilarious_ , and then they decided that since Patrick had already seen Pete's dick, it was better if they kept that number to a solid one. Band-mates logic. _Those fucking bastards._

 

So all of that brings him here. The part that makes this worse for Patrick, is that now he _knows_ what Pete is touching. Of course he knew what it was in a general sense, but now he knows the details. No imagination, just pure unforgiving fact.

 

He's sightly relieved to hear the noises muffled some, but he can't help but think--after what he knows is more than twenty minutes--That _God, is he ever going to fucking finish? You know, time crawls on while you're listening to your friend j_ _erk off...._ Pete must know that Patrick has not been asleep this whole time, but what would be Pete's endgame if Patrick was awake?

 

Patrick is officially in a pool of sweat waiting for this to be over, and the pool grows when he hears Pete whisper something. He doesn't hear it the first time, but he quiets his breathing and thoughts to give a listen.

 

"Ohhhh, _'Trick_." Facing Pete's direction Patrick's eyes fly open in shock. He thought he was just hearing things the first couple of times. The sight his eyes are now corrupted with is a scene from a personal horror movie. Pete's eyes are shut with a hoodie--Patrick's hoodie? The one he was wearing last night?--as the thing he's biting down on. A hand under the poorly covering sheets, moving in slow strokes. Patrick just can't shut his eyes at this point; he watches guiltily as the hand picks up the pace. Watching Pete's body _writhe_ like that, he can't help but fidget with an ache between his legs. Patrick just can't ever un-see any of this, he wishes to God that it was dark outside, but no the fucking blinds leak just enough light to see anything in the first place.

 

He stops the torture slyly rolling over away from the sight, just as he hears a long deep moan of relief, hopefully indicating that Pete finished. Yeah, Patrick's never un-hearing that.

 

Indubitably, Patrick would've loved to not have just heard his best friend (at the moment he's wishing ex-friend) come, while biting his hoodie and whispering his name, but you can't have everything. Patrick waits for a long few minutes before faking just waking up. He stretches and rubs his eyes as if they weren't just wide open. He fumbles for his cell phone for the added effect of morning obliviousness, checking the clock, it reads: 1:12 p.m. Not everyone else's morning, but for the four of them this is early. Except Joe, he always seems to be awake, but never tired, no one knows why though.

 

"Morning, dude." Patrick croaked in a poor attempt at a sleepy tone. He doesn't know why he is worried about blowing his cover, when Pete was the one being unusual, in a creepy way nonetheless. But is it any better to have been listening?

 

"Good Morning, 'Tricky." _Of course it's a fucking good morning for you._ Patrick reaches for his rectangular glasses, putting them on as he sees Pete hide Patrick's hoodie under his pillow. Well he certainly doesn't Ever want to wear that again, so Pete can keep it. Patrick doesn't really know what to say to someone who he just heard jerk off, so he goes with the least odd thing. Of course he'd like to confront him, but what do you say? H _ey, well I was just listening to you jerk off for the last half an hour, and I was wondering--_. This is obviously a lose-lose situation.

 

"You sleep well?" Patrick asks. Pete tosses his arms behind his head-- _Oh God, du_ _de, wash your hands_ \--and grins that fucking _Pete Wentz_ grin.

 

"Actually, I slept amazing. The best night I've had in a really long time." _Yeah, I bet._

 

"That makes one of us. I was tossing and turning all night," Patrick thinks to leave it like that slowly hinting he was awake, but he can't bring himself to leave a conversation _that_ awkward. "I finally got into a full sleep for like, the past two hours."

 

"I'm usually the one who's up all night, so maybe trading for once?" Pete laughs.

 

"Yeah, guess so. You can have the insomnia though, you're used to it." Patrick puts his jeans from the nightstand on, and walks into the bathroom, carefully shutting the door behind him. He doesn't want Pete to see anything, and well, Patrick quite frankly doesn't want to see Pete, again. _Ever._

 

The rest of the day they prepare themselves for tonight. They are playing a show, and they planned to make this the longest one they've done yet, totaling at an hour and twenty minutes. Most of their equipment was set up the day before, so that left them with a few sound-checks and they're ready for the show one hour from now. The venue is already packed, and the opening act will be going on in twenty minutes. It's a new band, playing their first tour since being signed to Pete's brand-spanking-new record label.

 

Pete separates from Joe, Andy, and Patrick for a little while to cheer Panic! at the Disco on before they step on stage. The rest of the guys break off to their dressing room for the last of preparing, which isn't much, they just thought that that is what you should do before a show.

 

Patrick grabs the largest trucker cap he owns, to hide as much of his face as feasible. He grabs the case to his glasses as well, tucking it into his back pocket so he can take them off and keep them safe while on stage. He's forgotten about the events of the morning--not forgotten, but rather he has too many other things to think about right now. Just as the morning begins to cross his mind, there's a knock on the door.

 

"Patrick, let me in!" Pete says urgently, but Patrick knows that he's just doing it to make him open the door quicker, probably for something stupid.

 

"What do you want?" Patrick asks with more tart than he meant. Pete steps in with a hoodie in his hands. As a matter of fact, it's the one Pete was... _using_ , earlier

 

"You left this in the motel this morning," _Yeah, mmmhmm._ "I didn't know if you, like, wanted it or anything for good luck or something." _You'd probably get a fucking kick out of that, wouldn't you?_ Patrick's face flushes a new shade of red, as Pete tries to hand it to him.  _Shit, I can't blow my cover now._ He reluctantly takes it, and nods his head in slight disgust.

 

"Yeah, thanks." Patrick inspects it, as if he had actually lost it in the motel, and spots a smudge of black eyeliner. _HMMMM, I wonder how **that** got there!_ Patrick leers at him, just taking in how disregardful Pete must think Patrick is right now. _He didn't even wash it... fucking g_ _ross._ "How did you manage this, Pete?" Patrick asks sarcastically, he sees Pete's face turn even redder than Patrick's was a minute ago.

 

"I, uh, I...." _I'm just dying to hear his excuse this time._ "I must've gotten eyeliner on it, when I was just putting it on. I had it right next to me so I wouldn't forget to bring it to you." Patrick couldn't quite contain that snicker that escaped him.

 

"Yeah, well how do I get rid of it?" He plans on throwing the hoodie away anyway, but he just wants to drag Pete on as long as possible, curious if he's going to confess.

 

Pete searches the vanity for a paper-towel, a cloth, anything. He grabs a tissue and a bottle of water as a pretty failed attempt at knowing what he's doing. He takes the hoodie from Patrick's hand, and places it on the flat surface of the vanity. "I guess you, uh," He pours some water on the spot, then rubs it with the tissues which falls apart as he tries to scrub it.

 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Patrick huffs out.

 

"Okay, so I don't know how to get it out. Wash it or something?"

 

"You can keep it, you break it you buy it." Patrick can't believe he just said that about a small barely visible black line on a $15 jacket he got at fucking _Wal-Mart_ three years ago.

 

"Why would I want it?" Pete _really_ wants it, but he would never ever say that to Patrick. First rule of getting something, pretend you don't want it. The only reason he's trying to give it back, is how attentive Patrick is, Pete knows he would never get away with it.

 

"You seemed to want it this morning." _Oh shit._

 

"What--" Pete turns around to Patrick.

 

"You guys are on in fifteen, makes sure your asses are ready!" Their manager shouts through the door.

 

"We will be." Pete answers back quickly. "What do you mean?"

 

"Really, Pete? 'What do you mean?' You know exactly what I mean."

 

"You weren't suppose to know."

 

"Well, I do, and I have to know, do you have a crush on me or something? Because there are better ways of saying it then jerking off with my hoodie, and then trying to Return it, with your eyeliner on it nonetheless." Patrick isn't as angry as he thought he would be, if anything he's actually curious.

 

"Patrick, you know I like you, you may not think in, you know, _that way_ , but I do. I mean since you were jail-bait, like when we just met. It took a year or so before I realize that it's you, not just your golden voice, then I really started to actually get turned-on by you, since then you're all I can think about." _Well I'm not sure if this is better, than that habit being new, but I don't think it really matters right now._

  
"Are you serious?" Pete nods, with an 'I must be hopeless' look in his eyes, Patrick knows it's sincere. Pete pulls a lot of shit, but this would be so unlike him to be fucking with anybody like this.

 

Their manager knocks on their door again, and opens it.

 

"Everyone is waiting for you two, come on." He says and beckons them as he walks off, as if Pete and Patrick don't know where they're supposed to go.

 

Patrick just smiles at Pete before following their manager. He doesn't know exactly what he meant by that smile, but he knows there is something special behind it. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved, maybe for Pete not stalling, or maybe for the contents of the confession in its self.

 

They watch from the side stage as Panic! at the Disco wraps up with _Build God, Then We'll Talk_ , thanking the amazing crowd, surprised from the reaction they got. Five minutes and Fall Out Boy's set is ready. The whole room goes dark as the boys run on stage, the room lights up with blue as they crack into _Grand Theft Autumn_. Everything goes smooth, and during the bridge, Pete rests his head on Patrick's shoulder, whispering to him:

 

"Wanna meet in my dressing room?" Patrick doesn't answer Pete right there, he waits until the beginning of _Sugar, We're Goin' Down_ , before causally getting close to Pete, mouthing back, "Yeah".

 

Pete has a grin on his face for the last twenty minutes of the show. They do a few more songs ending strong on _Dance, Dance_ , notwithstanding feeling like passing out. Thanking the crowd, Pete throws his bass across the stage, it flies in Joe's direction, but he manages to dodge it and throws his arms up, mouthing, _What the fuck?_ All leave the stage heading to their dressing rooms taking a break before hitting the road again.

 

Pete tells Patrick he wants to go tell Panic! great job, before meeting in his dressing room. Everyone's dressing room is lined up, from left to right Joe, Patrick, Pete, then Andy, leaving no space in between besides the walls. Patrick tries to get into Pete's, but it's locked. _Shit, I forgot about that_. He paces in the hall as Andy comes out and looks suspiciously at him.

 

"Hey, you get locked out or something?" Andy asks.

 

"Yeah, I think Pete pick-pocketed my key to mess with me or something." Patrick's key is in his glasses case.

 

"He's such an ass. Want me to punch him when he gets back here?" Andy lights up at the thought of getting to punch someone. Pete no less.

 

"Nah, I'll get it from him." Patrick nods and smiles trying to seem composed.

 

"Okay, well if he ever needs a good punch, you know who to call." Patrick laughs a little with Andy. "I'm going into Joe's to hang for a little, wanna join?"

 

"Maybe in a few minutes, I just want to get in mine first." Andy nods, patting Patrick on the shoulder as he walks two doors down before knocking on Joe's and being invited in. Patrick can hear them laughing already.

 

Pete comes up from behind Patrick and scares a small scream out of him, which in return makes Pete jump.

 

"Sorry, I didn't think that'd happen." Pete rubs Patrick's back apologetically. "Why didn't you go in?"

 

"I got locked out of yours, and I lied to Andy, said that you stole my key and I was locked out of mine."

 

"Smooth. Sounds like that could happen." Pete laughs. He unlocks his door and waves an arm, beckoning Patrick to go first, like a gentleman.

 

"So... all you said before the show?" Patrick trails off, losing confidence in even coming in here.

 

"All of that was true, Patrick."

 

"Like you actually really like me?"

 

"Unless there is another definition to true that I don't know about." Pete steps closer to Patrick, lightly grabbing a hand to let Patrick know.

 

"Well, that's good, because I like you too, in that way. I just thought it would be wrong to try anything, I didn't want to get shot down and fuck up the band, so I just shoved those feelings away, and lied even to myself about what I really felt." Pete grabs the other hand too.

 

"I would never shoot you down, and this could never fuck up the band." Pete goes on chance, and leans in to press his lips on Patrick's. Shock and passion shoots through them like lightning, and Pete pulls Patrick into a tighter hold. Patrick's hands slip onto Pete's hips, as they grind themselves together. Patrick makes a soft moan, and Pete presses even closer for more friction.

 

Pete goes on chance again and tries to pull off Patrick's one of two layers. He succeeds but gets protest on the other layer.

 

"Patrick," Pete says after the kiss was broken from Patrick's self-consciousness. "Please," Pete takes off his three layers with one pull, hoping to make Patrick more comfortable. "You're beautiful, you know that?" He leans in to lay kisses on the neck of his best friend.

 

"You swear you won't laugh?"

 

"I couldn't even think of laughing if someone paid me a hundred-million dollars." Patrick smiles at that, then removes his stage-sweaty tee shirt. Pete runs a hand over Patrick's newly bare back to explore. Patrick takes a chance, and presses kisses onto Pete's jawline, right under his left earlobe. The new feeling wakens something in Pete's heart that he's never felt before. "You know, Pete," Patrick pulls away. Right this second, they're making no contact, leaving them feeling incomplete. "Remember that one night in the motel?"

 

"There were a lot of nights in a motel, give me a hint."

 

"The one with the towel, you were, uh, naked. And I seen you, while you were looking for pajamas?" _Oh, now you show up awkward-shyness? Sick of missing the party?_

 

"Yeah, I remember. Did you like what you saw?" Patrick blushes when Pete pokes him playfully.

 

"Well that later night, I um, when into the bathroom," Pete raises an eyebrow curiously. "And I, uh, I kinda, well, I came harder than I ever had in my entire life."

 

"So you Really liked what you saw?" Pete can't help the proud grin that grows on his face. Patrick just nods his head. "I'll tell you something too. Every time on stage--every time I hear your voice--I swear, I get a hard-on. I had to tell my mom some elaborate excuse to why I needed her to turn off the music, 'cause your singing was making me too hot, I thought I was going to have to run into the bathroom in the middle of dinner. And besides, why do you think I wear my bass strap so low?"

 

"If you felt this way too, how come it took you so long to make a move on me?" Patrick rubs his hand up and down Pete's arm.

 

"I was trying to make passes at you, I mean Joe and Andy don't hang around you like I do, so I was just hoped you'd catch on. But for actually saying something, I always thought it'd be bad timing or something. Pretty much the same reason you never said anything. But now that we both said something, now we can do and say whatever we want."

 

"Why are we still wearing our pants then? I think we've wasted enough time." The moment pushes back into the feeling like when they were just making out, Pete is the first to remove his jeans. He pulls at Patrick's, having a hard time with the button, but still gets into the singer's pants in record time. They jump when the glasses case from Patrick's pocket falls to the ground with a terrible crash. Pete pulls away for the last time, and hastily goes throw the contents of his vanity. He digs through a gift-bag from a fan, it contains handmade soaps, a jar of lotion.

 

"Pete, what are you doing?" Patrick walks over to see what is going on.

 

"See, I don't have the proper 'materials' so I'm looking for some, I found this lotion, I think it could work. It's got... lavender, grape-seed oil, and coconut oil, all natural stuff, so I don't think it will hurt, or poison us." Patrick just caught on to what Pete was looking for.

 

"I'm fine with it." Pete opens the jar, and smells it, a look of approval from him, and same from Patrick when he holds the jar out. "That's really nice." They pause for a minute, before laughing about standing there naked while sniffing lotion, specially for their reason.

 

"Well get on the couch, and spread your legs?" Pete asks, questioning himself more than Patrick. Patrick does so, and waits as Pete scoops up some of the lotion, and rubs it on his dick. "You feel the awkward right now, right? We're like a couple of virgins."

 

"Well, one virgin here."

 

"No shit, really, I'm your first?" Pete asks, hand still on his hard self.

  
"Yeah, you're my first. I guess in my sub-conscience I was waiting for you, I never even thought of being with somebody else." Pete crosses the room and sits down, straddling Patrick. He gets more of the lotion on his hand, before placing the jar on the floor.

 

"At least it won't be hard to make it your best." They lean into a kiss, tongues moving in sideways rhythm as Pete slides a finger into Patrick, sending a shiver up his spine from the new sensation. He slips in another one easily, and spreads them widening Patrick. Their mouths don't disconnect for a second, despite lack of breath. Pete puts in his third and finale finger before pulling away. "Are you ready?" Patrick nods his head, barely even processing that Pete said words.

 

Pete slides in slow, eyes on Patrick's face to make sure he is comfortable. Patrick makes some pained noises, causing Pete to freeze before being signaled to continue. Patrick stretches his legs out on both sides of the bassist hips, pushing on the puffy arm of the squeaky tan leather couch. Pete adjusts his hips and movements a few times till he find the one that he knows hits Patrick's sweet-spot. Patrick's back arches off the couch for more leverage; they pick up the pace, moaning together with every hit. They pulls into each other's lips, exchanging each other's breath as their only way of maintaining life.

 

Pete never knew how much he wanted sweaty desperate Patrick to unravel underneath him, until now that he has it. It's even better than any dream, that what he could've ever imagined. He finally gets to make Patrick feel this way, to watch him release because of him, to pant and sweat and moan because he's hitting all the right buttons. It's almost too much, when the singer's hand slides down to get a firm grip on Pete's ass. _It feels as good as it looked that day_ , Patrick thought.

 

"Pete, I, I'm close, please." Pete knows just what Patrick means, so he moves a hand down to the younger man's dick, getting a firm grip and rubbing along with the rhythm of their hips. Everything tightens as they come simultaneously, Patrick spilling on their stomachs. Pete's vision turns to stars, and he thinks for a second he's going to blackout as he comes.

 

They stay in that position for the next couple of minutes, just staring into each other's eyes, with pleased smiles on their faces. _This is the best moment of my life_. Pete pulls out, but just falls back onto Patrick, making a face at the warm substance pressed between them.

 

"So was it worth it?" Pete asks after their breath returns to normal, head resting on Patrick's pale chest.

 

"What do you mean?" Patrick runs his fingers through Pete's hair.

 

"Waiting all those years before we finally did this? Because if someone told me it'd be this good, I would've waited my entire life, and the next one for it."

 

"Well I can't think of a better way to spend my time. Anything that involves you is all I need to survive, even if it's waiting." Pete pushes himself up to kiss Patrick.

 

"I love you so much, no could make me happier than you do."

 

"Me too, Pete. I love you too." Pete pulls down the blanket from the top of the couch, and snuggles under it with Patrick, falling asleep to the thump of the bass from the band that is currently on stage.


End file.
